


naughty little girl

by walkerinthesky, Wheresfury (SarahPaulsonisSupreme)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Plug, Daddy Kink, Dom Carol Danvers, Dom/sub Play, F/F, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, Top Carol Danvers, dear god, lowkey sugar daddy carol, sdkfjlsdkjlskfj, so much filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-10-16 22:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkerinthesky/pseuds/walkerinthesky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahPaulsonisSupreme/pseuds/Wheresfury
Summary: Tony's throwing an extravagant party tonight at a grandiose hotel, and you've promised Carol up and down that you'll be good.Things go... a little bit sideways.





	1. the party

**Author's Note:**

> fsdsjfkdjfla;skdjglsad ggod i need holy water and i need it nOW
> 
> um
> 
> so this is presented by the collaboration of triple A (also frequently referred to as the 'unholy trinity of triple A'... though, understandably, we cut it short for your convenience, as the whole moniker really does get rather lengthy in its full glory) 
> 
> and um
> 
> dedicated to the *sighs heavily* ... strap... chat.................
> 
> (-audrey)

“Shhh, babygirl,” Carol murmurs gently against the exposed skin of your neck, her warm breath ghosting across your exposed collarbone in such a way that has you _shuddering_ under the utterly intoxicating sensation of it. “No moving.”

You whine loudly, biting down on your bottom lip _hard_ even as you force yourself to stay still: unerringly facing the blank wall, your back to Carol, not a stitch of clothing gracing your lithe figure… just how she liked. The night air is cold upon your naked skin, and you feel an involuntary shiver run down your body. 

Carol’s fingers ghost over your shoulders, dipping lower and lower with each tiny movement. Carol had taken her time with you that evening, carefully crafting the alluring look adorning your shivering figure. 

A tiny scrap of black silk draped over your body, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Granted, part of Carol wanted to keep you all to herself, but she never missed an opportunity to show her pretty girl off. She’d picked this dress out especially for you and this occasion, knowing that you’d be the prettiest girl in the room by far. 

Of course, no ensemble of Carol’s choosing was complete without the perfect accessories to go with it. Carol had selected a delicate diamond necklace that dangled dangerously low to the plunging neckline of your barely-there dress, delicate hoop earrings, and a beautiful jeweled plug that she insisted you wear for her. The plug was not the only toy Carol had selected for you tonight, however. She’d gifted you with a beautiful new pair of nipple clamps as well, and you had practically moaned when you’d opened the package earlier that evening. 

“Why don’t you go get your present I gave you earlier, baby girl?” You push off the wall and walk over to your dresser where the small but delicate package was. You walked back over to Carol and presented the small blue package. She smiles at you at opens the box where inside sat two small metal clamps which made your mouth water. Carol picks up the small clamps and tosses the box onto the bed. 

“Against the wall, baby.” Your back hits the wall, your knees trembling violently with anticipation. It’s been far too long since you’ve played like this. 

Carol’s body covers yours as she trails her mouth over your warm skin, pressing delicate kisses on your neck, slipping one of your dress straps off your shoulder to expose one of your _aching_ breasts. 

She hums and pulls away as she heats up her hand holding the clamps. You practically moaned as she slowly clamped down the newly heated piece onto your sensitive nipple. You lick your lips at the hungry look in Carol’s eyes. Before you could comment on it, she re-situates the cooling metal before moving on the next one. Your knees are weak as she clamps your other nipple before giving it a quick kiss and pulling up your dress strap. Your mouth is agape as she smirks at your look of pure lust.

“Can you be my good girl tonight, baby?” You quickly nod, unable to respond with words. Carol hums in approval, licking her lips as she rakes her gaze up and down your figure.

“Use your words, baby girl.” 

You whimper at the look she’s giving you—a look of pure lust and unfettered _pride_ that was making your thighs tremble.

“Yes, Daddy,” you acquiesce shyly, ducking your head slightly and looking down. “I can be your good girl.”

Carol smiles and gives you a quick peck on the lips, leaving you craving more.

“Good girl.” Her fingers brush past the soft silk of your dress, grazing over the nipples she so carefully clamped not even a minute ago. You whimper, unable to form any sort of sentence at all. You’re hyper aware of the clamps pressing into your nipples, fully knowledgeable of the fact that anyone and everyone who looks at your chest tonight will realize exactly what you’re wearing underneath, because, as Carol knew when she picked this dress out for you, it really did not allow any room to hide anything whatsoever. 

Carol holds out her hand to you, wordlessly beckoning you to come forward. 

“C’mon, baby girl. You know we have a place to be at, and I don’t like to be kept waiting.” You nod at her, swallowing thickly. You begin to walk towards her, feeling your breasts bounce with every step, the satin of the dress sliding teasingly over your clamped nipples. With every step, the pressure on your nipples increases as the steel clamps stay firmly in place—Carol has left you absolutely no choice but to feel every single movement, no matter how slight, against your nipples. 

“You have your princess plug in, right, baby girl?” 

You nod anxiously back at Carol. 

“Of course, Daddy. You know I would never go to a party like this without it.”

Carol cocks her eyebrow up at you. She twirls her finger around, motioning for you to spin for her. 

“Do a twirl for me, princess. You know we can’t leave until I make sure you’ve got all your accessories in place. Can’t have you going to a party and not being dressed to the nines!”

You immediately oblige her and twirl, feeling both the plug shift inside of you and the clamps as they bite into your skin. You’re fully prepared for a very long night. 

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

You’re dying. You’re absolutely _sure_ of it. 

Tony’s latest party is pretentious and grandiose as ever: flashing neon lights, champagne bottles that each probably cost more than your entire outfit (sans the diamonds adorning your ears—_Carol’s_ diamonds), and hundreds of wealthy people milling about all dressed in their finest evening wear. 

Carol looks incredible, of course (not a hair out of place) in that deep burgundy suit of hers (without a blouse or tie, because she’s cruel like that) and shiny midnight-black Louboutin red-bottomed heels on either foot. 

You, however…. Well. 

You know you look good in your short strappy black satin-y dress complete with that slim black leather choker that Carol bought for you a couple months back, not even to mention the shiny black heels on either foot (though they don’t give you nearly enough height to come up beyond Carol’s jawline) and white-gold bangle adorning your wrist along with the shiny studded diamonds gracing either of your ears. 

You know you look good, but really, that isn’t the problem; the problem is—

Well, truth be told, there are multiple problems: like the sinfully pleasurable burn of the bejewelled plug nestled snugly between your ass cheeks, the warm wetness smeared between your thighs, and the downright ridiculous ache of your painfully-hard nipples trapped betwixt the unforgiving steely hold of Carol’s ‘present,’ to name a few. 

Because, really, there’s a hell of a lot more than just that. There’s the way your tight satin dress pulls and tugs at the clamps on either nipple, the slight shift of the plug in your ass with every step you take, the way you feel powerless and scattered and _exposed_ unto the questing eyes of literally everyone in attendance. 

You know they don’t know, obviously, that they can’t _possibly_ know what you’re hiding beneath your dress… probably.

(It’s only been 15 minutes or so, but you’re growing more and more unsure by the second.)

But, still, you do your best: waving to people you know, smiling politely at those you don’t, walking slowly and carefully so as not to disrupt the plug (or the nipple clamps) as you do. 

No one has approached you yet; you’ve been roped into one or two menial conversations, engaging yourself in small talk before graciously excusing yourself to do… whatever you could come up with, really. Finding Carol, or tracking down a waiter (though for what, you weren’t sure), or maybe even going to the ladies’ room (even if you wouldn’t and _won’t_, because as soon as you’re alone you _know_ you’ll want to touch, and God help you but Carol would be _so_ upset if you touched yourself without her say so). 

Still, it’s something of a Godsend (the relative lack of social interaction required of you as of yet), and you’re grateful for it—minimal interaction means less inspection, and less room for error, and less possibility of everyone finding out about the ‘present’ hanging from your breasts or the pretty bejeweled plug nestled between your cheeks. 

(You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.)

Sooner than you can blink, you hear a familiar voice calling out, “Y/N!” 

You turn around with a slight start to see Natasha making her way towards you, her tight red dress doing absolutely nothing at all to cool the desire leaking down your thighs. You can clearly see her pierced nipples straining against the tight crimson fabric, making your thighs clench as you release a tiny desperate whimper. She stops in front of you, her chest bumping against yours causing you to bite down on your lip to stop from moaning. She gives you a smirk as she notices your look of desire.

“What do we have here, pretty girl?” You swallow what little moisture you have left in your throat as her hand comes up to stroke your flushed cheek, languidly making its way down your neck to pull teasingly on the expensive leather of your choker before delicately moving to trace your diamond necklace. Her fingers trail down your chest bumping against one of your nipple clamps, making you jump in shock.

“Is this what I think it is, you little slut? I can smell you from here, and damn if I don’t want to take you now. I bet you’re absolutely drenched under this piece of cloth, hm?” Your eyes widen as you look past Natasha to see Carol glaring at the two of you. You look back to Natasha and step closer to her make her hand fall to your waist. She hums and brings you into a hug. You moan into her ear as her pierced nipples graze over your clamped ones. She squeezes your waist hard and whispers into your ear.

“Such a bad little girl, using me to make Carol jealous. You’re in for it, pretty girl.” Your cheeks redden as she pulls away with a quick nip to your earlobe. As she walks away you see Carol seething silently in the corner, her hazel eyes set ablaze with a jealous fire you know all too well means trouble. You gulp as you realize you may have fucked up. 

You freeze as Carol swiftly makes her way towards you in big strides. You gasp as she grabs your elbow leading you away from the crowd. She stops and slams your back against the hallway’s pristine eggshell-white-painted wall.

“What a dirty little slut you are, whoring yourself out for Nat like that. What do you have to say for yourself, baby girl?”

You blush, looking down at the ground. Carol roughly grabs your chin with her hand, forcing you to look up at her. 

“You will look at me when I speak to you, do you understand me?” spits Carol, fire burning behind her eyes. “Where on Earth did your manners go, princess? You’re acting like a naughty little slut, and you know how I feel about that.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you manage to whimper out. “I just can’t think straight... all this teasing is getting to me. I need more, please.” 

Carol gently traces one of her fingers along your collarbone. The pad of her finger is cool against her skin, presumably from the glass of whiskey she’s had clutched in her hand all evening. The whiskey glass is conveniently gone, leaving both of Carol’s hands free. 

“You want more? Already?” Carol asks, mock compassion written all over her face. “We better go take care of that then, huh, babygirl?”

You moan and nod jerkily in response. 

“God, yes, _please_ Daddy. Anything. I’ll do anything at all. Just need you.”

Carol grips your hand tightly in hers and roughly drags you to the nearest bathroom. 

It’s empty (thankfully), and Carol wastes no time pushing you up against the wall. Her mouth is warm against yours, your pussy throbs at the touch you’ve been dying for. Her tongue explores your mouth as her hand creeps up the bottom of your dress. Her nails lightly scratching your drenched thighs. Carol pulls away completely making you whine at the loss.

“No whining, baby girl. Or you will not cum tonight.” You shut your mouth as Carol slowly slides down the straps to your dress to uncover your clamped nipples. You briefly look at the door reminding yourself anyone could walk in. Carol notices and flicks her fingers on one of your clamped nipples making you yelp.

“Don’t worry if someone walks in, baby girl. You would love it anyway wouldn’t you, slut?” You moan as Carol’s fingers rub your nipples.

“What a pretty color your nipples are, baby. I bet you would love to have my mouth wrapped around them, wouldn’t you?” 

“Ugh, yes, Daddy, _please_. I need you to touch me... anything, _GOD_.” Carol hums and leans down to kiss one of your reddened nipples making you release a pleasure filled moan. She moves to the other one leaving a tiny kiss as well before pulling away making you whine. Carol raises her brow and slaps your cheek lightly making you whimper.

“What did I say about whining, baby girl?” Your eyes look away for a brief second before Carol is forcefully grabbing you by the neck and pushing you hard against the wall behind you, the sudden force of it all more than enough to make you gasp. 

“I asked you a question, slut; I expect an answer.” You try to keep from whining again at the absolutely lust-filled glare she aimed at you. You pout as her hand releases your neck, beginning to idly trace your lips with deft fingers.

“You told me not to, Daddy.” Carol heaves a sigh at that, pressing her fingers harder against your lips to make you part them. You release a deep, guttural moan as her long fingers enter your mouth.

“That’s right, baby girl. You’ve been such a bad little slut tonight, but you do so much better when you can’t talk.” With that, she slams her fingers into her throat, forcing you to gag on two long digits; you’re given no time to adjust, either, before she’s roughly thrusting her fingers further into your mouth and down your throat causing warm wet drool to trickle from your lower lip, steadily making its way down your chin even as your eyes water at the discomfort.

“Look at you, baby girl. Drooling all over yourself like the slut you are. If you’re good for the rest of the night, I’ll let you drool all over something else.” 

Carol holds her fingers in your mouth making you choke as you adjust to them. Her hips slam into yours and she sharply grinds down making your eyes widen as you release a choked moan. She was very clearly packing and your mind nearly exploded in pleasure at the feeling of the strap against you—and, no doubt, a huge one at that. 

Once Carol is satisfied with your state of stimulation, she pulls out her fingers and heads casually over to the towel dispenser, wiping them dry. She gives you one last look before making her way out of the bathroom. 

You release a shaky breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as you do your very best to calm yourself down. You place your dress straps back where they belong as you whine at the stimulation of your nipples. Your eyes widen upon hearing the mewling whine escape your throat, though a second later, you sigh in relief upon realizing that Carol isn’t there anymore to hear it. 

You walk over to the sinks on unsteady feet, moaning as you feel your wetness with every step. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a quiet breath of reprieve upon seeing that your makeup wasn’t too badly damaged—matte-black mascara dusting your undereyes, blood-red lipstick only slightly smeared across your lower lip… all in all, nothing that can’t be easily fixed. 

You grab a towel and get it wet with some water as you wipe the drool off of your chin and neck. You whimper at the coolness of the water on your overheated skin. You throw the towel away before getting another to dab at your eyes. 

But, of course, once you’re bent over the sink, attempting to clean yourself back up, you hear a telltale creak as the bathroom door opens behind you. Your eyes dart up to find Natasha’s in the mirror. She has a huge smirk on her lips as she stalks her way over to you. You gasped as her hips lock onto your ass as she reaches around you.

“Nat, what are you doing?” She hums noncommittally as she turns on the faucet, gathering some soap into her hands.

“What’s it look like, pretty girl? I needed to wash my hands. And, after hearing what just happened, I may want to wash my ears too.” 

You blush profusely at the knowledge of Natasha over hearing what just happened. You moan as her arms come into contact with your sensitive nipples. She grabs the towel from your hand and wipes her hands dry. She throws the towel away before bringing her hands to your breasts, her fingers tweaking at your sensitive nipples. You bite your lip as she looks at you with her eyes sparkling.

“Such a pretty little slut you are, hm? Isn’t Carol just the luckiest girl?” She licks the shell of your ear and with one last tug to your nipples she pulls away. She gives you a harsh slap on the ass before snickering at you.

“You should clean your thighs too, you whore. You’re absolutely _drenched_. How disgusting, pretty girl.” She gives you a wink through the mirror and leaves you there with a new breathing problem. 

You body buzzes with arousal as your trembling hands grip the edges of the sink. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before standing up straight (—well, as straight as you can manage, anyhow). You grab a towel and finish fixing your makeup. You grab a few more to dry your thighs as your wetness continues to gather there. You bite your lip as you hold off from moaning. 

You’re embarrassed to say it takes more than one towel to clean your sticky thighs. After throwing away your last towel, you chance a look into the mirror one last time; you still look utterly debauched, you think, with pink cheeks and swollen lips and pupils blown wide with unmistakable lust… but, it’ll have to do. 

With a deep breath, you turn around towards the door. _Just a few more hours_, you tell yourself. _You can do this_. 

You sigh as you feel your thighs once again become warm and wet and _sticky_ with your own arousal. 

It’s going to be a rough night.

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

This is pure torture: the persistent ache of your arousal-slick cunt beneath the dress, the lewd fashion with which the bejewelled plug lodged securely in your ass shifts upon even the slightests of movements, the entirely lustful looks Natasha had begun flashing you as soon as you reappeared from the ladies’ room with flushed cheeks and a scent that you’re sure positively _reeked_ of your own excitement. 

Carol is busy right now (you’re not sure if that’s a relief or just frustrating as all hell), engaged in polite conversation with two middle-aged (and impeccably-dressed, of course) gentlemen over by the fountain, and God help you but Natasha doesn’t seem to have the same reservations, if the way she’s eyeing you up and down whilst you futilely attempt to find some sort of distraction is any indication. 

You’re not drinking, even though you’d like nothing more than to snatch a flute (or three) of sparkling amber-hued champagne and down it in one go until you’re dizzy and your arousal abates to something of a dull roar. 

You’re not drinking, because Carol said not to, and you’ll admit you’re a hell of a lot more starved for any degree of validation from her than you are for the hazy cloud of intoxication the champagne will give you. 

Instead, you’re milling aimlessly about, doing your best to ignore the way your ass cheeks reflexively clench around the princess plug and the aching tug of the clamps on your sore (and painfully erect) nipples. 

You don’t think you’re doing all that well, of course, but eventually, you find an opportunity to seat yourself semi-graciously upon a plush silken sofa with burgundy cushions (the same lurid burgundy as Carol’s suit, you remind yourself unhelpfully), a sigh of relief escaping you at finally finding some semblance of rest even as the plug viscerally shifts and you fear that the wetness leaking from between your thighs will stain the cushions beneath you. 

(At this point, you’re a bit too far gone to care all that much—you’re sure Tony would be more than happy to pay off the reparation costs.)

You’ve lost Carol, in the commotion, amidst hordes of well-dressed men and women, but you know better than to worry. 

No, instead, you clench your slick thighs tightly together and force yourself to take a couple of long, deep breaths to calm your racing heartbeat. (It doesn’t work all that well.)

_You can do this_, you tell yourself. _You can do_—

“You look lonely,” comes Natasha’s husky voice from somewhere up above, and you bite your lip _hard_ to stifle a whimper when the couch cushions sink beside you as none other than Natasha settles herself close (_too_ close) beside you. “Are you lonely, darling?”

Your thighs clench reflexively at that and this time, you can’t help the shaky whine that escapes you, the flush upon your cheeks increasing tenfold even as you can practically feel the way Natasha’s knowing smirk widens in response. 

“You miss Carol, don’t you, pretty girl?” Natasha continues lazily despite your lack of response, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of her body upon your exposed skin, the _heat_ of her breath ghosting across your shoulder. 

Digging your teeth into your lower lip even harder, you manage a shaky nod—you know all too well the consequences of failing to respond, of being dismissive and rude and _bratty_. 

(The last time you dared to pull something like that, Carol spanked your ass until you were crying and sobbing and _begging_ for it to end; your cheeks were seven shades of purple and blue for a whole two _weeks_.)

“I know,” Natasha replies lowly, her sensuous tone _dripping_ with faux sympathy. “What does she have you call her, I wonder?” Natasha muses then, and your eyes widen even as you refuse to look her in the eye—you think you’re going to pass out. 

“Master?” Your jaw clenches. “No, that’s much too formal… Sir?” You feel your eye twitch at that, but you force yourself to remain still, breathing steadily through your nostrils even as your thighs clench beneath you of their own accord. 

“No, I don’t think it’s that, either,” she drawls, low and rich and devastatingly sexy, her gaze positively burning through you. “Oh, I think I’ve got it: you call her ‘Daddy,’ baby girl, don’t you?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your thighs clench more violently than ever before, and _fuck_ but you can’t stop the strangled moan that escapes you then. You’re not sure what it is about the way that sounds coming off of Natasha’s tongue, the way you can almost _see_ the way those full blood-red lips curl around that word, that _title_—either way, you’re fucked the second she guesses right, and, what’s more, you both know it, too. 

Natasha lips curve into a deadly smirk. 

“How do you think your _Daddy_ is going to feel about the way you’ve misbehaved tonight? About the way you’re looking at me right now, at the lust in your eyes that only grows with every word I say to you?” 

Natasha trails her fingers over your collarbone, drifting lower and lower down. Eventually (_finally_), her hand dips below the neckline of your slinky dress, cold fingers deftly finding the chain attaching the two clamps on your nipples together and pulls it forward with a sharp tug. Your nipples throb at the motion, but the clamps stay firmly in place. Carol made sure to find the best quality money could buy, after all. 

“I’ll bet you’d _love_ for your Daddy to know just how naughty you’ve been... God. I know what I’d do to a pathetic little slut like you. You’d be bent over my knee, tears streaming down your face, makeup smeared all over that pretty little mouth of yours, begging me to stop.” 

You clench your thighs together, subconsciously grinding against the sofa. You _know_ that Carol would be so angry if she saw you with Nat like this, but Nat just keeps teasing you and God, but it's making you ache in all the right places. You lick your lips as Nat continues to smirk at your obvious arousal.

“Did you like that, pretty girl? Hm? Do you like the thought of me punishing you like the dirty little slut you are?” You release a quiet moan as you grind harder into the sofa, Nat’s eyebrow instantly quirking up as your complete and utter lack of inhibition shows. 

“I-I—”

“Maybe your Daddy and I could do that together, hm?” she continues on with an inane degree of nonchalance to her tone, every word seeming to bring a gush of wetness from your aching center. “Hitting you until you cry, treating you like the dirty slut you are for being so _wet_ for us. Maybe I’d make you call me something, too… Something to make sure you can’t forget your place.”

You whimper even more loudly at that and your face burns at the knowledge that people could’ve easily heard, your hips grinding even further into the sofa even as the shift of the plug and the slight friction against your slippery folds make you gasp. 

Nat’s grin simply widens, evergreen eyes trained intently upon you with such apathetic curiosity, you think you might explode. “Nat, I—P-_Please_, I need—”

A tight, all-too-familiar grip curling around your upper arm has you halting your speech mid-plea, your body instinctively going limp as you’re unceremoniously yanked to your feet, the sudden change only worsening the arousal-induced dizziness assaulting your addled brain whilst you stumble against her solid form in an attempt to keep your balance. 

Carol’s lips graze your ear, and you shiver when she growls “Having fun, little girl?” even as Natasha leans comfortably back into the couch, watching your and Carol’s interaction unfold with scarcely concealed interest. 

You turn slightly (as much as you can, what with your Daddy’s achingly close proximity), feeling tears burning in your eyes as her grip tightens around your arm—she looks beautiful (of course) but furious, and the righteous fury burning in impossibly hazel irises when combined with the iron feel of her domineering grip upon your exposed skin is more than enough to leave you breathless.

Still, you do your best to defuse the situation: “D-Daddy,” you plead, eyes wide and lashes fluttering in a desperate attempt to communicate your sincerity. “Daddy, _please_, I—”

“Quiet, baby girl,” she snaps in that no-nonsense tone of hers that always means _business_, and immediately, you snap your mouth shut, trying to hide the way your thighs clench together of their own accord at the sheer amount of _power_ Carol is exercising over you right now. 

“Did you see that?” Natasha, ever-so-helpful, chimes in then, sounding indubitably amused.

“Oh, I assure you, I did,” Carol snarls back, never taking her attentions off of you, fiery gaze burning into yours as her grip tightens around your arm. 

(At this rate, you’ll have bruises by tomorrow for _sure_.

You’re not ashamed to say that the thought of it makes you even wetter.)

“Let’s go, baby girl,” Carol says decisively, already pulling you along towards (presumably) the exit, not even allowing a second for giving Nat your goodbyes. “Party’s over.”

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. Part 2 of this wonderful collaboration. It’s been a week in the works, but finally! This was so much fun to write, and we went a bit wild. Hope you all enjoy reading it!!
> 
> Sorry it took awhile to update to AO3!

Carol is angry—no, _furious_ would be a far better descriptor. Livid, even. 

Her hazel eyes burn with a bone-chilling fury, eyeing you up and down with an intense smoulder; she’s absolutely stunning, a pinnacle of flaming glory as she looks down upon you, and God, you want her. 

Still, you can’t help but feel very small, and very afraid, that unease quite readily outweighing whatever else you might be feeling. You haven’t seen Carol this angry in a long time. Maybe not _ever_. 

The only other time you’ve ever seen her this mad was when she came back from a month long mission to find you lying naked upon the bed you two shared, pussy clamped around Carol’s strap as you fucked yourself with it on the beautiful silken sheets. Carol was furious, though for more than one reason: first of all, those sheets were fucking _expensive_; secondly, you’d broken her cardinal and utmost rule: absolutely_ NO_ touching while Daddy is away, unless it’s granted by her instructions specifically. 

You knew this, of course, but, in your defense, it’d been far too long since Carol had allowed you to touch, to work yourself to that delicious edge, and _fuck_, but you couldn’t stand it. She wasn’t supposed to be back until the next day, anyhow; with any luck, you could merely satisfy your needs then, quickly and quietly, and she’d be none the wiser.

(Obviously, this ‘plan’ of yours backfired rather spectacularly.) 

But, now? 

Carol has her hand firmly grasped around your wrist, and she’s tugging you roughly towards the elevators. Her pace is quick, and you can hear each click of her beautiful Louboutins echoing down the hallway on every stride. The space is mostly empty, which you suppose is something of a blessing, but you can still see a few guests stumbling across the carpeted floors, likely trying to find their rooms. No doubt, they’re drunk out of their minds, too, courtesy of Tony’s open bar and endless alcohol supply. Carol’s fingers dig into your wrist, painfully reminding you of exactly what is in store. 

“Carol…” you whine. Carol stops abruptly. 

“Don’t you fucking ‘_CAROL_’ me, young lady. You’ve been a naughty little whore all night; honestly, I should just spank that fucking pussy of yours and leave you tied up here with no way of getting out,” she spits at you, aggression dripping from every word. 

With that, Carol drags you into the elevator. She hastily pushes a few buttons, and the elevator doors close, but you can’t feel it beginning to move. Carol immediately has you pinned against the wall of the small elevator, hips pressed solidly into you, rutting her strap into the exact place where you need the friction most. 

“Teasing me is one thing, but fucking _whoring yourself out to NATASHA like that_? Disobeying your _DADDY_? Of all people? I cannot fucking believe you.” 

You whimper. 

“Please, please, _please_ let me make it up to you, Daddy. Please. I-I am so sorry… just _please_. Let me make it up to you.” 

Carol raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh?” she questions evenly. “Do you have any idea how?”

You hang your head shamefully, nodding. You can’t possibly think of anything that will satisfy Carol. 

“Well, you’re in luck, my dear little slut. I have just the idea.” 

Carol releases her grip on you and takes a step back. Pulling up the leg of her expensive suit, she slowly begins to reveal her leg… 

“I think you can grind on my shoes for me. Show me how much you _really_ want my forgiveness. Show me just how much of a little slut you are for me. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll begin to think of forgiving you.” 

You blush profusely at the thought of grinding on her shoe in the middle of an elevator. You must admit, though, that the action makes your wetness crawl further down your legs—you’re going to make an absolute mess all over the place, you know, and you were scared of what she might make you do to clean it up. 

Carol glares at you with her eyebrow raised. You clear your throat as you slowly lower yourself to your knees. Luckily, the elevator had a nice red carpet that was relatively soft on your knees. 

You hike your dress up a little bit—straddle your thighs over her nice expensive heel with cheeks almost as bright red as the Louboutin bottoms themselves. 

And, as for the moment your slick folds parted for the Louboutins? You released the most whorish, guttural, animalistic sound you’ve ever heard, let alone made yourself. You hear Carol release a slight groan at the sound. Your hands land on your thighs, gripping into the exposed skin there because you know better than to grip her clothed leg like you so desperately want to, know damn well that she’ll push you off the moment you touch her without her express permission. 

Once situated somewhat comfortably, you begin to grind, your flushed face contorting at the lewd squelching sounds your cunt makes with every hasty thrust against the cool polished fabric of Carol’s shoe. 

“Hands on your head, baby girl. Thrust those tits out for me.” You immediately comply with her order, very nearly losing your balance while doing so—your hands now rest firmly upon your head, elbows jutting dutifully out to the sides. You puff up your chest even more for her, yelping slightly as the fabric of your dress tugs on the clamps in retaliation even as your cunt gushes out more fluids at the action as if on cue. You whine quietly and hum as you begin to grind feverishly, the only point of focus in your brain being just how fucking hot this is, how the lewd sounds of your sopping cunt fill the quiet elevator, how you can smell only the sweet scent of your pussy and nothing else. 

You’re already so fucking close to the edge when Carol abruptly yanks her heel away and pushes firmly against your cunt making you fall backwards onto your bare ass. You gasp, momentarily at a loss before hearing yourself let out a strangled whimper as you struggle to gather yourself. 

Carol, meanwhile, looks down indifferently at the mess you made on her pointy black shoe, angular features furrowed in clear disapproval. 

You feel your face flush with shame. Granted, Carol had asked you—hell, practically _insisted_ that you grind all over her shoes—but you had simply complied without even so much as a second thought. You hadn’t stopped to question, and your cunt had been aching so, so much (not that the ache was gone, of course) that you had straddled Carol’s shoe in an instant, desperately moaning for any sort of friction at all. 

“Look what you did, you filthy cunt. You ruined my perfectly good expensive shoe. Fucking _clean it_, bitch.” You groan at the derogatory name, cunt gushing with even more wetness as you bend obediently over to lap submissively at your arousal slathered messily upon Carol’s shiny black Louboutins. 

Carol is leaning ever-so-casually against the wall of the elevator now, arms crossed whilst she calmly observes the tiny kitten-like flicks of your tongue across the sheen of her shoes as you lap up every last drop of your own arousal. 

You can’t possibly know this, of course (though you suspect as much), but she’s fighting tooth-and-nail against the primal urge to throw you against the wall and shove the length of her thick strap deep inside your filthy, sopping cunt, rutting her hips into you until you see galaxies of stars behind your eyelids and your legs can’t support the weight of your body—but, she reminds herself that patience is, after all, a virtue. 

(Not even to mention, you’re still a filthy whore that needs disciplining, and Carol can’t exactly do that in such a way that she’s sure to get her point across whilst trapped in this tiny, cramped elevator.)

Carol hits a few buttons wordlessly and the elevator begins to move again, ascending steadily towards the uppermost floor. She doesn’t say a word to you, but the way she’s staring at you with that steely glint in her eyes is more than enough to leave you whimpering and moaning beneath the weight of it. (Truly, you’re surprised at this point that Carol has yet to utter a single syllable, especially in light of your blatant show of desperation.) Normally, she’d scold you and shove her fingers down your throat until you’re gagging, but, no. Not this time. This time, you get nothing; absolute silence. 

The elevator dings a moment later and the doors slide open, revealing a lavishly decorated hallway. Beautiful ornate mirrors decorate the walls, polished mahogany side tables adorning the space beneath them. The floor is a plush velvet, and the gilded corridor is completely silent.

You’re utterly enraptured for a second or two, lips slightly parted and eyes wide with the outright novelty of it all—but, a second later, Carol is wordlessly padding over to you, and harshly yanking a finger around the chain of your clamps. You yelp in pain, feeling your clit throb as she pulls you up onto your feet by nothing but the fine chain connecting those two pieces of metal together. She leads you out of the elevator, finger firmly hooked around the chain as she practically drags you over to a beautifully detailed white-painted door. 

Silently, she slides the key card in, swiftly pushing the door open after the lock clicks to grant her entrance. You’re immediately greeted by a lavish penthouse that screams opulence. The windows surrounding the room span from floor to ceiling, and you can see the gleaming lights of New York City twinkle below you. But, again, you’re not given all that much time to gawk—without a word, Carol is pulling you abruptly over to the window, your black satin dress unceremoniously pooled around your midsection as she shoves you roughly up against the pristine glass face-first, raw and reddened breasts pressing painfully against the cool surface. 

“I’ll bet you want all of New York to see those pretty little tits of yours, huh baby girl? Show them how red those nipples have become? You’d probably whore yourself out to the whole city at this point,” she whispers against the shell of your ear with just the right amount of poison dripping from every word, her breath deliciously hot against your skin. 

Her hips press solidly against yours from behind, the bulge of her massive strap pressed borderline painfully against the bejewelled plug nestled between your ass cheeks, the sensation of it teasing you relentlessly until you’re sure you’re going to explode with just how much you feel right now, just how much you _need_. 

“Carol, p-please,” you whimper as coherently as you can with your cheek squished haphazardly against the glass, sounding needy and unrestrained and wholly _pathetic_, barely cognizant of the way Carol’s deft fingers trail confidently up your neck and eventually come up to clench a handful of your hair in a firm fist. “_Please_ I—”

Carol is quick to cut you off there with a sharp tug to your hair, pain exploding behind your eyelids as she yanks your head forcefully back against her shoulder, firmly holding you in place. 

“What did I SAY,” she growls lowly, an edge to her voice that’s downright terrifying but somehow not enough all at the same time, “about calling me ‘CAROL’?” 

You whimper pathetically, only now realizing your slip—you’d simply been far too caught up in the moment to address Carol by her proper name, and fuck, but you’re going to pay for that. 

(You know better than to expect any differently.) 

Carol’s powerful fingers dig into your hip, painfully pressing the delicate skin until you’re sure you’ll have bruises there tomorrow. 

Still, the hand curled in the silky locks of your hair remains firm, and she shows no signs of releasing you anytime soon. 

“Daddy, no, please—I didn’t mean to! I c-couldn’t help myself!!” 

Carol lets out a frustrated huff, clearly dissatisfied with your last-ditch attempt at reconciliation. 

“That’s what you said the last time, babygirl. Problem is, I just don’t believe you. God, you’re such a fucking filthy little whore.” 

Carol releases her painful grip on you, pushing you away and down towards the ground. “Get on the fucking floor. Hands and knees. Do NOT make me wait.” 

You scramble to obey, bending down to your hands and knees as quickly as you possibly can, crying out in pain as gravity pulls the clamps on your nipples down and pain rockets throughout your entire being. You’re soaking wet, too, which doesn’t help all that much (if at all), and you can feel the warm, sticky fluid of your own arousal smearing your inner thighs as you position yourself. 

As soon as you’ve successfully situated yourself in what (you hope) is a suitable pose, Carol is carefully bending down to your eye level and burning into you with a furious gaze, the faintest hints of white-hot rage beginning to fill those breathtaking hazel irises. 

She’s practically glowing with anger. 

(Idly, you can’t help but think that you’ve never seen something—or some_one_, rather—so goddamned beautiful in your entire life.)

“I am going to punish you now—do you understand me, babygirl?” Carol asks, not really giving you much of a say in the matter. “I am going to spank that pathetic ass of yours until it’s red and raw and you’re _begging_ for me to stop. I am going to make sure that by the time I am finished with you tonight, you will not be able to walk for days.” 

You moan loudly, Carol’s sinful words translating immediately into throbbing pressure from your neglected clit. 

“DADDY,” you gasp out, the word drawn desperately out from your swollen lips. “Please!”

Carol wordlessly stands then, circling around to position herself directly behind her, the flushed round skin of your ass bared entirely unto her. You shudder in anticipation.

The first strike comes almost instantly upon your left cheek, pain immediately radiating throughout your bottom from the force of the blow. Carol isn’t starting off softly tonight (though, to be fair, she seldom does), and you whimper both in fear and scarcely-concealed anticipation of what is about to come. 

“Count, babygirl,” demands Carol from behind you. “Fifty is a big number… We wouldn’t want to have to do any more than that, now, would we?” 

“F-Fifty?” you manage to choke out, your stammered words coming out as a pitiful cross between a moan and a groan. 

“Mhm, babygirl,” Carol affirms matter-of-factly, and you fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “You’ve been a naughty slut. You _know_ that naughty sluts need to be taught a lesson when they misbehave. Now, fucking count for me.” 

Carol slaps your ass again, harder this time. You painfully stutter out the second count, bracing yourself for the blow that is sure to come any second. 

The next blow comes down in the same spot as the first, not any less harsh. You yelp as you count three and brace yourself for the next hit. Every hit is noticeably harsher than the last, and, by the time you get to twenty-five, you’re a complete mess: bawling your eyes out, salty tears tracing either reddened cheek, desperate pleas falling from your lips in some bid for a reprieve of any kind. 

“Only halfway done, baby girl and you’re already crying like the pathetic little bitch you are? What a disappointment, slut.” You clench your jaw and sniffle, quickly wiping away your tears with shaky hands at Carol’s words. You don’t know why you can’t handle is as well as before—heaven knows this is hardly the worst punishment you’ve ever had. 

You aren’t given all that much time to dwell on it, of course, but you figure it must be a direct byproduct of just how insanely turned on you are at the current moment: all the teasing tonight seems to multiply without a reasonable end in sight, and you’ll be the first one to admit that spanking is easily amongst your biggest turn-ons. 

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you take a deep breath, hearing Carol start to speak from behind her—desperate for her approval, desperate to be _good_, you quickly jut out your sore ass as well as you can manage to show that you’re alright to continue, that you can take this just like she knows you can.

“What a good little slut, taking your punishment so very well. Twenty-five more, and then I’ll think about forgiving you. Don’t forget to fucking count, or we’ll just have to start all over.” You take a deep breath as Carol brings her hand down once more on your (no doubt) already lurid crimson ass cheeks. 

There’s something different about this hit, you notice almost immediately in the wake of it—it’s warm, almost _too_ warm, and the burn of it only adds to the (previously) insurmountable heat radiating from either abused cheek. You release a low, pathetic moan as you realize she’s used her powers to warm her hands for the latter half of your punishment. 

You do your best not to move; still, you can’t help but squirm and release a slight yelp as she rams her hands down upon your cheeks with (literally) lighting speed. You barely have time to call out the next count before her fiery palm is hitting you once more in a dizzying blow that leaves you breathless in its wake. 

It goes on like that for what seems to be forever—tears stream down your cheeks, you can taste coppery blood on your tongue from where you’d bitten your lower lip just a little bit too hard, and your throat is raw from begging and sobbing and _screaming _for it to end, for forgiveness. 

But, eventually, it comes. Eventually (_finally_), you’re screaming out the count “_FIFTY!_ ” amidst the biggest wail of the night, the force of it stealing all the air from your lungs. 

You collapse forwards onto the polished hardwood flooring beneath you, trying your absolute hardest not to reach back and rub your ass for any kind of relief, knowing Carol would just punish you further for doing so. You let out a pained groan as you hear your clamps hit the ground and feel the sting of them tugging on your nipples a second later, scarcely aware of what’s happening as Carol casually makes her way over to you, a pair of shiny black Louboutins subsequently entering your blurred field of vision. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, baby girl? I’m far from done with you. On your fucking knees, whore.” You quickly scramble to your knees with a desperate groan as you sit back on your feet. Your ass is burning with the heat of a thousand suns as you sit gingerly atop your calves. 

With your lust-blown eyes tilted downcast and skittish hands on your thighs, you await Carol’s next instruction.

Carol looks you up and down with a disdainful glare (though, inside, she’s practically beaming with pride at how dirty you are, how eager and willing you are to please her, even if you had brought this all upon yourself by being such a brat)—though, a moment later, a chilling smirk spreads across her sharp features, and you feel an involuntary shiver run throughout your entire body at the sight of it. 

Soundlessly, she bends down to render her eyes level with yours, her sure hands reaching up to pry your mouth open—and, of course, you oblige willingly with what little energy remains in your exhausted being. 

Your makeup is ruined, tracks of runny black mascara intermingling with salty tears, ruby red lipstick smeared messily across swollen lips, wide eyes looking at Carol filled with both fear and excitement. 

Again, you have no way of knowing it, but she takes a moment to think to herself that she’s truly never seen anything more beautiful in her life. She eyes you for a second, then takes a spell longer to burn the mental image of you into her mind—God, you were a vision. 

“You’re beautiful, princess,” she murmurs softly, so softly you almost don’t quite catch the delicate words as they tumble out of her lips. “I just wish you didn’t have to be such a brat all the time. You only make things harder on yourself, babygirl.” 

You tug at Carol’s hand, urging her to let go for just a second. Leaning forward, you press your lips against Carol’s, kissing her lightly. It’s a brief but welcome reprieve from the events of the night prior, and the events that are to come.

“I love you, Daddy” you whisper in a gravelly tone, soft and subdued, ever conscious of the way the words burn your battered throat. 

“Daddy loves you too, babygirl.” 

With that, Carol swiftly pulls away from you, grabbing ahold of your jaw again. 

“And, as much as I would love to spoil you right now and fuck you with my tongue until you see stars, I still have a few more lessons to teach you before I will allow you to cum.” 

Carol roughly shoves three of her fingers into your mouth as far as she possibly can, forcing you to gag violently, your throat convulsing spasmodically as you adjust to the feeling of her long, slender digits invading your airway. 

“Suck, babygirl,” orders Carol, her tone steely and uncompromising. “Get my fingers nice and wet for me.” 

You look up into Carol’s eyes, obediently suckling around her fingers. Your tongue laves around her skin, eyes rolling back into your head. You attempt to close your thighs together to get some sort of friction against your aching middle, but Carol abruptly thrusts her shiny Louboutin against your leg and shoves her fingers even further down your throat, causing you to moan loudly around the digits. 

(Her message is clearly received—you won’t be making that same mistake again.)

After what feels like a blissful eternity choking and gagging around her digits, Carol finally removes her fingers from your mouth, a string of glistening spit stretched between the two of you; you can’t help but reflexively moan at the sight. 

“I’ll bet you want these fingers somewhere else, huh, babygirl? Want me to put these fingers in that aching, sloppy cunt of yours? Rub your clit until you cum for me?” 

“Yes, please, Daddy. Please put your fingers on me, please show me how good you are, please,” you whimper, frantic and vehement, your words dripping in unmistakable urgency. “I can’t take it anymore.”

At that, Carol’s lips quirk into a playful smirk—her hand trails down your body in lieu of response, calloused palms lightly fluttering over the expanses of flushed skin, bare and ripe for the taking beneath her province. 

It takes what feels like forever (well, to you, at least), but her fingers finally reach that sinful spot, delicately ghosting over the sensitive tissue. She moans at the feeling of your deliciously swollen cunt, unable to help herself as she relishes in the slick that quickly begins to coat her fingers. She pulls away, bringing her fingers into her mouth. She pulls them out with a loud pop, her saliva mixed with the fluids from your cunt as she sighs in pure ecstasy. 

“Princess, you taste fucking incredible, and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” she growls out. You simply moan in desperation, unable to form any sort of coherent sentence at all. 

Her fingers drift back down to your throbbing cunt, going deeper this time. Her fingers part your puffy folds, fingers dancing dangerously close to your aching clit. Her fingers finally reach that sinful button, and she presses down lightly. You cry out in agony and pleasure, for the feeling of her fingers finally reaching your aching clit is simply overwhelming. 

“Do you need something, baby girl? Hm? Something on your mind?” You whimper as Carol’s finger slowly rub your clit with not nearly enough drive to push you over. You’re about to respond when she pulls her fingers away from your aching cunt and begins to unbuttons her suit jacket at a painfully slow rate. She slowly pulls it off before getting up to hang it on the back of an ornate chair. She walks back over to you, thrusting her crotch right in front of your face as she unbuttons then unzips her pants. She rolls them down to her upper thighs and you gasp as the biggest strap she owns pops out. Of course, she’s not wearing any sort of undergarment whatsoever. 

“Take off my heels, baby girl.” You nod and hold on to each shin respectively as you carefully take off both of her Louboutins. You delicately place them next to you as she sheds her pants off of her lithe body completely. Your eyes have yet to leave the large red strap resting snugly between her hips for one second after taking her heels off. 

Carol snaps her fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your drooling moment. She bends down to you to run her fingers through your saturated cunt. You moan throatily as she lightly pulls on your folds, gathering your wetness upon her long digits. You gasp as she once again pulls away and before you could pout she roughly places her fingers on the bright red strap, coating it in your pussy juices. You choke out a moan as she slides her long fingers along the strap, coating it evenly.

“Do you want Daddy’s cock, baby girl? With the way you’re drooling like a little whore, I bet you do. Want my cock shoved so far down your throat you can’t even breathe. Is that what you want, slut?” You close your legs as your thighs clenched tightly. Carol brings her hand down harshly across your face unhappy with your lack of an answer. You gasp at the sting left on your cheek. You whimper before looking up at her looming figure above you.

“Yes, Daddy. I want your cock. I always want it in whichever of my slutty holes you decide to honor me with. Please, Daddy. Please just fuck me.” She hums and tangles her hand in your hair, harshly yanking your head back. 

“Open up that slutty mouth of yours, cunt.” You immediately open your mouth and grunt when Carol spits into your mouth. You hold off swallowing, knowing that she will let you know exactly when you’re allowed to swallow. You’re surprised when she leans down to pull you into a rough sloppy kiss, body quivering at the sheer look of ecstasy written upon Carol’s beautiful face. You both let out a visceral moan, bodies melting into the dirty kiss as your tongues bathe each other in spit. She pulls away with a long, glistening strand of spit, leaving you breathless as she spits again once more into your mouth.

“Swallow, baby girl.” You swallow her sweet essence as she stares at you with a sinful glint in her fiery hazel eyes. She releases her firm grasp in your hair and steps back, making her way towards the bed. She lays down on her back her head on the pillows.

“Come on, slut. Get your pretty ass over here, now.” You stand up with a jolt and hiss as your eagerness causes the clamps to pull on your over sensitive nipples. You walk on shaky legs over to the bed as Carol watches you with her hazel eyes. 

“Get rid of the dress and straddle my abs, baby girl, facing away from me.” You slip the dress the rest of the way off your body and quickly straddle her defined abs. You hands land on her thighs as you start to slowly grind down. You yelp as she slaps your bruised ass making you stop in place. 

“Did I tell you to fuck my abs, you little slut? What a fucking shame. You just added a few edges before you get to maybe cum. Now. Choke on my fucking cock like the little cock slut you are.” You groan at the thought of being edged. You’ve been on edge all fucking night. And you’re honestly not sure how you can take any more of it. You huff slightly as you get up on your knees and lean down to lick Carol’s strap, moaning at the taste of yourself. You moan as she brings a hand up to rub your slick folds. You back up a little further to be closer to her fingers before she pulls away and slaps your cunt harshly.

“I don’t hear you gagging, slut. You want my fingers? Then gag, baby girl, drool all over my cock.” You moan as you eagerly take the tip of her strap into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you lower your mouth more, taking most of it in. You whimper as you feel her fingers at your entrance. You clench around nothing as her fingers press against your drenched flesh. You take the rest of her cock into your throat, and gagging slightly, you relax your throat and literally choke on her strap when she plunged three of her fingers into your dripping snatch. Your eyes water as she starts to thrust up into your mouth. The feeling of her fingers finally being inside you made you want to scream out in ecstasy, to shout Carol’s name from the roof of this hotel, to announce to the entire world that you were Carol’s good little girl. Your hands fist the bed sheets as Carol’s persistent thrusting prevented you from getting a good grip on anything. You scream around her cock, gagging, as her fingers find your sensitive spot. You close your eyes at the overwhelming sensations, drool dripping onto Carol’s thighs and she thrusts harshly up into your mouth. You’re almost about to cum when Carol pulls her fingers out of you with a slick popping sound. You groan around her cock as she stills her hips. You begin to back away, ready to put a different sopping hole on her cock instead, when her thighs lock around your head. She laughs at you, pain and annoyance written in your eyes. 

“No way, baby girl. I’m not done with that slutty mouth just yet.” She smacks your thighs as hers release your head. She moves the lower half of your body off of her abdomen making you moan at her strength. Your mouth is still dutifully wrapped around her strap, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl. Keeping your mouth where it belongs, such a good little slut.” Her hand, coated in your slick, wraps itself in your hair as she pushes you all the way down on the strap, effectively choking you. She holds your head down so you couldn’t move an inch. Her cock hits the back of your throat, much farther than it has ever been before. Your hands are still firmly gripping the sheets as your eyes water. She hums as she watches you with her appreciative gaze.

“Fuck, baby girl, you look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock. Fuck.” Once she’s ogled you enough, burning the image of you into her mind, she pulls your head off of her cock and moans when she sees the string of spit connecting your mouth to her strap. Your chin and her thighs are absolutely drenched with your spit. She pulls you up towards her mouth and you straddle her thighs as she kisses you with a hungry intensity. 

“I suppose you’d probably like to ride my cock now, huh, babygirl? Would you like that? I’ll bet you would.” 

You whimper, frantically nodding your head yes. You’re soaked, and your cunt has been clamping down around nothing for far too long. Carol smirks, and _GOD_, as if you hadn’t already seen enough of that painfully attractive smirk for one night. She carefully lifts your hips up, lining you up with the bright red cock nestled between her hips. Without warning, she thrusts into you, hips jutting towards yours, skin slapping against skin as you throw you head back in ecstasy, moaning. You’re sure all of New York City would be able to hear you had the windows been open, but to hell if you cared at this point. 

Carol continues to jut her hips up against you, slamming into you at an absolutely inhuman pace. You’re frantically grinding your hips against hers, trying to create as much friction as you possibly can. One of Carol’s hands snakes up to the delicate chain dangling from your painfully numb nipples that have been trapped between steel the entire night. She grabs the chain, firmly holding on as you continue to grind down on her cock as she rams into your dripping cunt as if it were her last task on planet earth. 

“D-d-daddy,” you manage to moan out between thrusts. “I’m going to cum. Please please please may I cum?”

Carol nods her head. “You’ve taken your punishment well, baby girl. I think you deserve a chance to cum.” 

Carol’s second hand trails down to your clit, running small, tight little circles. You tilt your head back in ecstasy, and just as you’re falling over the precipice, Carol pulls the clamps off of your sore nipples. You scream out in blissful agony, body dissolving into ecstasy. You still your hips against Carol’s cock, gripping the bed sheets as you lean towards her. You’re pretty much spent at this point, and your body is exhausted. Your nipples are on fire, and your clit feels like fireworks. Carol smiles up at you softly, moving her hands to cup your breasts. She carefully massages the soft skin, gently pinching your nipples. You moan at the feeling, incredibly sore and overstimulated. Carol removes her hands and gently cups your chin. 

“Do you think you can do me a favor, Princess?”

You nod. “I can try, Daddy.”

“Good girl. I want you to go one more round with me. I want to eat that delicious cunt of yours while you eat me. Lord knows we could do with a bit of simplicity.” 

You smile. You’re overstimulated and sore, but what Carol says goes. You allow her to move you into position, carefully rearranging pillows and blankets to make the angle more comfortable. Carol has thrown the strap on the ground beside the bed, and her perfectly shaved cunt is on full display. 

“Fuck,” you moan softly. “You’re so beautiful, Carol.” 

She smells invigorating, and you salivate at the sight and smell. You lean towards her, gently licking up the folds of her glistening cunt. She’s dripping, slick leaking out of her tight pussy. It’s at this moment when you feel Carol’s mouth attach to your overstimulated clit. She’s sucking and licking with tiny little kitten licks that have you going absolutely mad. This spurs you on to do better, to overstimulate Carol until she’s sobbing herself. You continue to bite and suck and lick, enjoying the feel of Carol’s swollen cunt beneath your tongue. It’s warm and puffy and delicious, and you can’t get enough. She moans into your cunt, clearly pleased with the work you’re doing. When she finally cums, you cum along with her. It’s simple and soft and innocent, and you sigh as you flop down besides her. You’re sore, but it had been completely worth it. After some of the most mind numbing orgasms you’d ever experienced, you had never loved Carol more. Carol helps clean you up, taking a warm shower as she massages your aching self. She carefully wraps you up in a fluffy robe and grasps your hand as she pulls you into bed with her. You yawn, snuggling closer to her. 

“Love you, Carol,” you mumble against her chest. She presses a delicate kiss to your forehead, pulling her arms even tighter around you as the lights dim. 

“I love you too, Y/N. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” 

“Anything?” You mumble sleepily, eyes already shut. 

Carol kisses your head once more. “Anything,” she whispers. “You’re perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> um.
> 
> thots?
> 
> (wheresfury's [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wheresfury))  
(walkerinthesky's [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/envyscherry))  
(novoaa1's [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ultralightdumbass))
> 
> \- AAA


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